Chapter 11

Translator: Lizz

 

On the same day that the confinement was lifted, Zechs was informed of his assignment to the 75th platoon, also known as the Evan platoon. Alongside Zechs, two other newly-assigned mages were also present. A boy and a girl, both of them were young, quiet-looking, and had never interacted with Zechs before. They both completely ignored Zechs as if he were invisible.

 

Zechs had to wear his shoulder sash, decorated with two white lines and a white bird with three legs, over an old, repeatedly-mended tunic, whose only merit was being clean.

 

Lambert had said that missions were carried out as platoons, but the members of the Evan platoon did not seem to consider Zechs as one of their own. Although he had been looked at from a distance when he first joined, the decisive moment came during his first mission.

 

Probably due to a communication mistake, Zechs had been left behind in the middle of enemy territory without receiving the unexpected retreat order. The enemies had been bandits, ex-mages doing petty jobs near the Capital. With no superior officer to turn to for instructions, Zechs had incapacitated all the opponents and returned to Rhiannon on his own.

 

As a result of completing the mission alone, Zechs earned both envy and fear from others. Additionally, he was charged with disobeying orders and was put back in solitary confinement for three days. It was a series of unfortunate events.

 

Since then, none of the platoon members talked to Zechs, and he wasn’t even informed about the magic research the platoon was conducting. Zechs, too, decided to take a defiant stance, thinking, ‘If that’s how they want it, so be it’. He neither spoke to nor approached his members, but he executed his given tasks perfectly when ordered. This only deepened his isolation, but by that point, he didn’t care. When there were no missions or lectures, he had nothing to do, so he made it a habit to wander around the Iron Fortress. He took pride in having the best skills in the platoon.

 

More than a month after Zechs had grown accustomed to spending his free time in solitude, he noticed an irritating laugh echoing along the corridor that connected the residential and research buildings during his aimless wander one afternoon. It was immediately clear from a distance that the source of the laughter was not mages.

 

This corridor, facing the courtyard, was also closest to the central entrance. Zechs had seen knights delivering mission orders there before. It wasn’t uncommon for knights and nobles to visit; mages were generally forbidden from entering the inner part of the castle, so those with business had to come to them.

 

Zechs spotted some young knights, likely newly appointed or still in training. They were of a similar age to him, not quite old enough to be called young men.

 

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it, that they can’t fight properly without using those dirty spells?”

 

“They must rely on cowardly tricks. They’ve never had a fair one-on-one duel, the cowards.”

 

It seemed that the knights were venting their frustration on a passing mage. The mage, surrounded by five knights, was older than the knights, but he kept his head down, almost in tears, waiting for the storm to pass. He stood still even when pushed and insulted.

 

“Hey, why don’t you cowardly lot try picking up a sword for once? Maybe then you’ll learn some courage and etiquette.”

 

One of the knights said and threw his sword at the mage’s feet. He then instructed one of his companions, ‘Play with him’. The young man who threw the sword seemed to be the leader, and the one who was told to fight smiled cruelly, like a predator toying with its prey.

 

They looked as if they had found the perfect pastime. No matter how hard he tried, the mage would not be able to escape. Understanding this, the mage picked up the sword slowly, stumbling under its weight. He managed to lift it but didn’t know how to hold it properly, so the tip of the sword rested on the floor. The knights laughed at the sight.

 

Mages did not learn to use swords. Although it was not explicitly forbidden by law, there was no one to teach mages how to wield a sword, so it was only natural that they could not use one.

 

The young knights were mocking the wizard, knowing this full well.

 

Watching the events unfold from a distance, Zechs saw the knight draw his sword and took a step forward. He had no obligation to the mage being mocked and didn’t feel any desire to help him. After all, if there were no one stronger around, that mage would likely bully Zechs, someone of a different ethnicity. In that sense, both the knights and the mage were the same to Zechs.

 

However, Zechs simply disliked the knights. If they were confident that their status would never be threatened, it made him even more eager to bring them down a notch.

 

“I’ll take on that challenge.”

 

The knights, who hadn’t expected anyone to interfere, turned around in surprise at the sudden interruption. They might have mistaken him for a superior officer. But when they saw it was a mage of similar age, and one of a different ethnicity at that, they laughed derisively.

 

“Oh, such noble camaraderie. It doesn’t matter who the opponent is. Are you a Seldian?”

 

They probably assumed this based on Zechs’ hair and eyes. Since there was no reason to deny it, Zechs nodded. This seemed even more amusing to the knights.

 

“Then, take up the sword. But I won’t guarantee your life. Let’s see the sword skills of a barbarian. If you have anything that can be called skills, that is. You wouldn’t say you don’t even know how to hold it, right?'”

 

Passing by the sneering knights, Zechs slowly approached the bewildered mage and silently took the sword from his hand. Since coming to the Iron Fortress, he couldn’t openly practice with a sword, but he continued his training using long wooden sticks or pokers as substitutes. The weight of the iron in his hand felt nostalgic to Zechs.

 

Gripping the hilt firmly, he faced the opponent in a proper stance, locking eyes with the knight’s green ones.

 

The truth was, Zechs wasn’t confident he could win. He had never had an opportunity to measure his skills, and he hadn’t been formally trained by a swordsman. He didn’t think he could match a professional. However, the knights before Zechs clearly underestimated him. Zechs figured that if he exploited that, he could bring the fight to a draw. And for a mage to draw a sword match would be as good as a defeat for the knights.

 

The knight, with an obvious intent to toy and mock, casually thrust his sword forward. Zechs carefully watched it until the last moment, then swiftly sidestepped and struck down near the hilt of the knight’s sword. In a real battle, this would have cut the knight’s wrist, rendering him unable to fight, but Zechs couldn’t go that far.

 

However, the knight, who hadn’t expected a mage to swing a sword properly, fumbled to grip the sword again and retreated clumsily. As he readjusted his stance, he looked at Zechs with a mixture of surprise and dawning unease. Anger, hatred, and anxiety began to fill his eyes.

 

The knight, who had regained his stance, showed no openings. Advancing with elegant footwork, he launched a series of thrusts in a rhythmic motion synchronized with his breathing. Since good eyesight is also necessary in magic combat, Zechs could easily read the knight’s movements. However, he had never seen such fluid and graceful swordsmanship, which caused him to falter slightly. The knight sensed this and attacked with a ferocious shout. There was no restraint in his attacks, each strike aiming precisely at Zechs’ vital points.

 

At first, Zechs focused on evasion, but he gradually got used to the knight’s movements. Once accustomed, he noticed the knight’s movements were monotonous and had openings. Zechs stepped his right foot back and pointed the tip of his sword towards the floor.

 

(From above…!)

 

As the blade descended along the predicted trajectory, Zechs dodged and simultaneously rotated his wrist to swing his own sword in a circular motion.

 

A high-pitched metallic sound echoed as the knight’s sword was deflected. Zechs didn’t miss the opening of the knight’s exposed body and stepped in. The downward swing of his sword was barely blocked by the knight’s sword, but Zechs didn’t force it. Instead, he aimed a sweeping strike at the knight’s legs. Zechs didn’t really hit him, but the knight, thinking he’d been struck, stumbled and fell to the floor. Zechs then stopped his sword just short of the knight’s face, causing him to let out a cry like a crushed frog, signaling the end of the fight.

 

“Aiming for the legs is cowardly!”

 

“You barbarian!”

 

After a short pause, the surrounding knights relentlessly hurled insults. Only the defeated young man, his lips trembling, still couldn’t accept his loss.

 

“This is why mages are filthy.”

 

The leader knight spat out, looking at Zechs with a gaze as if he were looking at filth. Internally smirking at him, Zechs threw the sword he had been holding towards him. Although he considered the possibility of them all attacking him in retaliation, it seemed they weren’t shameless enough to do so.

 

From Zechs’ perspective, he felt like saying, ‘You should have known from the beginning that you were challenging a mage’. Expecting a mage, who had never learned the ways and etiquette of a knight, to adhere to such things was foolish.

 

“Remember this, you Seldian.”

 

The knights’ faces turned red with anger, but they seemed to recognize that losing to a mere mage was shameful, regardless of the circumstances. With a low voice, the leader gave a single command, and they helped their defeated comrade to his feet and slowly left the Iron Fortress.

 

Once their figures disappeared from view, Zechs finally relaxed. He had been quite tense. When he noticed, his back was drenched with sweat, and his hands were slick with it. He was relieved that he hadn’t dropped the sword.

 

The older mage he had helped had disappeared without a trace, and Zechs shrugged lightly at this. He hadn’t expected any thanks from the beginning. Naturally, the mage had escaped in the commotion to avoid further involvement. So when the sudden sound of clapping echoed, Zechs’ heart jumped. He had thought no one else was there, but the slow applause reverberated off the high ceiling.

 

Turning towards the sound, he saw a figure leaning against a pillar at the boundary between the courtyard and the corridor. The sight of the red hair shining in the sunlight struck him.

 

“Impressive. That is the Clam-Sorea style of swordsmanship, isn’t it?”

 

The voice, though playful, had an air of elegance and quietly resonated. As the speaker stepped forward, the face became visible in the light.

 

He was likely around the same age as Zechs. Unlike the hair Zechs knew well, his red hair, bright and lustrous, reached his shoulders. Long bangs parted in the middle of his forehead, revealing striking deep green eyes, reminiscent of a grand tree spreading its leaves under the bright sun. Like his voice, his features and mannerisms exuded a sense of dignity and grace.

 

Unlike Zechs’ worn attire, his clothes were obviously made of high-quality fabric, even from a distance. Judging by the sheen, it seemed to be silk. And despite not being adorned with jewels, the decorative buttons and belt embellishments were more exquisite than anything Zechs had seen.

 

It was clear he was a noble. For a moment, Zechs wondered if he was associated with the knights from earlier, but the red-haired youth did not carry a sword.

 

“Clam…?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t know? It’s one of the ancient sword styles that still remains in Lavarta. Because it emphasizes real combat, some nobles find it barbaric and dislike it.”

 

There was no way Zechs could have known that, and he wasn’t even aware that there were different styles of using a sword.

 

The red-haired youth glanced at the direction where the knights had left.

 

“They’re probably the second sons of some foolish nobles with high status. They’re the kind who, despite being called knights, are only interested in showing off their sword skills to gain the King’s favor.”

 

Despite looking every bit the noble himself, he voiced this harsh evaluation without any hesitation.

 

“Showing off sword skills?”

 

“Yes. There’s a match in front of the King. In the past, they used to have jousting matches on horseback, and everyone staked their lives on it. But now, it’s just a formality. They study forms that look more beautiful, and there’s a style of swordsmanship that combines those forms. The nobles’ sons who are chosen for the matches primarily learn that style. When those who have learned that style fight, it looks as beautiful as a dance. They wouldn’t use something like a leg sweep.”

 

“I didn’t know it was wrong to aim for the legs.”

 

Thinking he was being criticized, Zechs couldn’t help but make an excuse, but the other laughed out loud.

 

“It’s fine. After all, they said it themselves, didn’t they? ‘Let’s have a one-on-one duel’. That wasn’t a match. It was a life-or-death duel. They should be grateful that you didn’t take his life.”

 

His tone remained harsh, almost mocking.

 

“But where exactly did you learn swordsmanship? There aren’t many places that teach Clam-Sorea, and I didn’t know there were any that accepted mages. It’s the kind of swordsmanship learned by knights on the front lines.”

 

Hearing the curious tone, Zechs felt a moment of irritation. Of course, even though that guy was a noble, he was of low rank, and it was only natural that a man from a family renowned for military achievements would have learned such practical swordsmanship.

 

“…From my Master.”

 

“No, I mean, which martial arts instructor?”

 

“My Magic Master.”

 

The other person blinked in surprise. That unguarded expression made him seem approachable and trustworthy.

 

“Magic Master? You mean, a mage taught you swordsmanship?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“But your skills, they’re not just basic? You could easily be accepted into the knight order. And a mage taught you that?”

 

“Yes, that’s right. Well, my Master learned from a knight, apparently.”

 

The red-haired youth let out a surprised ‘Oh,’ his eyes widening in amazement. He muttered something about an eccentric knight. Zechs agreed with that opinion.

 

“…I had heard rumors, but you had quite an interesting Master. Completely unknown, but he trained a mage as skilled as you, and also taught you swordsmanship, huh.”

 

(Rumors…?)

 

Zechs furrowed his brow in surprise, his wariness quickly returning.

 

“You must be Zechs. I’m Aster Hart. Nice to meet you.”

 

Without taking the offered hand, Zechs shot him a sharp look in flat refusal, but Aster simply smiled undeterred.

 

“Who are you?”

 

Zechs spoke in a tone full of hostility, indicating he wouldn’t tolerate any careless approach. Aster nodded in understanding and picked up a blue cloth lying on the pedestal of the pillar. It was crumpled, but it bore the familiar white bird emblem. It was unmistakably the shoulder sash of the Evan platoon.

 

“I couldn’t go on the last mission because I had some errands to run, but I heard you were amazing. Nice to be working with you from now on.”

 

Aster said this with a carefree smile. In contrast, Zechs could only gape in astonishment.

 

Aster looked every bit a noble’s child, and Zechs never expected such a person to be a mage. Moreover, he never thought someone like that would speak so friendly to him, an outsider of a different ethnicity shunned by the rest of the platoon.

 

“Actually, if you hadn’t volunteered earlier, I was planning to step in. Believe it or not, I do have some knowledge of swordsmanship.”

 

By ‘earlier’, he was referring to when the mage was being challenged to a duel by a knight. It seemed Aster had been watching the events unfold from somewhere.

 

“I had no obligation to help just because he was a mage, but it’s exhilarating to wake up fools who look down on others and use that to confirm their own worth.”

 

From his words and tone, Zechs understood that Aster also disliked knights, nobles, or anyone who wasn’t a mage. He must have faced his own share of hardships due to his abilities.

 

Feeling a sense of kinship and realizing that Aster had thought the same thing at the same moment, Zechs found his spirits lifting and, without thinking, he took Aster’s still-offered hand and shook it.